Hostage Interludes
by Slx99
Summary: Interlude pieces of the 'Hostage' universe from my ongoing long-fic that don't fit into the main story, but which I still wanted to share. Some will be more fun, others more serious. They have no influence on the main story. Basic premise of the main story: Luke grew up with Bail and Breha Organa as the Prince of Alderaan until he is taken hostage by Vader on Palpation's orders.
1. Emsee

Emsee is basically an original droid character, a mouse droid given to Luke by Vader to keep him company and for…. other reasons as this story proves.

Writing Interludes and AU's of my main story seems horribly self-indulgent. But maedre, who I dedicate this chapter to, said I should post it, so here goes nothing. Hope you'll enjoy.

ooo

MSE-6/d2187, manufactured in year 15 after the founding of the Galactic Empire, in the droid manufacturing company Rebaxan Columni on Chad and commissioned for delivery and maintenance service aboard SSD Executor, powered up at the pre-set time. His audio receptors picked up a distinct rhythmic noise indicating that his master, the young prince, was still fast asleep. Emsee wedge himself out the boy's grip, his small wheels working hard to escape the arm that tucked him in. All the ruckus had not yet managed to wake the prince.

Emsee, as his young master had dubbed him, had spent months and months dutifully rolling through the corridors of the vast battle ship delivering datapads with encrypted messages and fixing small technical issues. That was until one day when his day-to-day assignments had then brought in disarray when he had delivered the classified update from the Military Headquarter on Imperial Center to Lord Vader's quarters. The Dark Lord hadn't dismissed him and instead assigned him a top secret mission. The little droid had dutifully taken on his new assignment and waited in the dusty maintenance corridors for his target objective, the young prince of Alderaan.

Time and again Emsee had led him through the maze of dark pathways from his rooms to the hangar he was designated to go and back. Emsee had never strolled far from the small hatch through which the human would clamber, so he would be always ready should his services be needed.

This way he had noticed when his young master had climbed through the hatch one day when there was no meeting with Vader scheduled. It was the day when the prince had first invited him into the quarters under the hatch. And the day in which Emsee's orderly existence had been thrown down the trash compactor for the second time.

A force shut down had wiped his memory for days after incident. And the next thing saved on Emsee's memory chip was an extensive hard- and software update. Lord Vader personally taken care of upgrading his appendages, circuits and communication abilities. Vader had also added a huge amount of data on his newly advanced memory chip to ensure Emsee could fulfil the set of tasks he was to accomplish: keeping his young master happy, save and sound.

Now Emsee knew everything he needed to know about the care and health of human sub-adults. He could detect elevated temperature and other small signs of early illness. He knew which room temperature, light and sound configurations should make his young master feel most comfortable. And he unobtrusively monitored the prince's sleeping pattern to compare it to the ideal pattern a human of his age should have.

Luke Organa's sleeping pattern was far from ideal. Emsee processed the data of the last night. The result was dismal. According to Emsee's calculation his master should sleep for another standard hour at least. But there was no time for that.

Emsee wheeled to the wall and extended his utility arm to plug into the small computer connector. He increased the lights in the room. The prince stirred on his bundle of blankets but still he didn't wake up. Emsee beeped annoyed. He knew how unhappy his young master would be if the humans bringing him breakfast would find him still sleeping on the floor.

Emsee plugged again in the outlet and increased the lights further. This time the boy didn't even move. Emsee connected once more with the computer to raise the lights to its brightest setting. The computer feedback warned him that the level of light was not suitable for human occupation. But it seemed to wake the young master. He groaned and rolled over to cover his face from the blinding lights shining down from the ceiling.

Emsee beeped a greeting.

Luke Organa fell silent again. The little droid disconnected from the outlet and rolled over to his master's resting place. For a short moment everything was silent, then the rhythmic noise started again, indicating his human had fallen asleep again.

Emsee beeped again, the loudest he could, but it had no effect. Curse his makers that his sound output wasn't louder than this. If only he had the shrill horn of the oxygen leak alert or the blaring proximity alarm on the bridge. His young master would surely hear that.

Emsee instead rolled forward to nudge against the prince's arm, sprawled on the floor. That at least _did_ get a reaction.

"… ly five more minutes…" his human mumbled.

Then the young prince rolled over again, turning his back to Emsee. The little droid checked his build in chrono. Five minutes would be too long. His calculations based on the analysis of the food delivery pattern of the past week told him that the door would open in 3.37 standard minutes.

Emsee extended his multitool arm and prodded his master. A grunt interrupted the rhythmic noise and the arm flailed to bat him away but missed by a wide margin. Again the prince fell silent.

There was no more time. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Emsee wheeled back two full length and charged. The pointy end of the multitool poked deep into his master's side. The reaction was immediate.

"Ouch!" The prince shot up, rubbing his side. "What was that for?" he said annoyed as he spotted Emsee on the floor.

Emsee chuckled, then set off a series of tones that sounded, according to his database, closest to alarm chronos humans used to wake up at a pre-set time. The prince's eyes widened.

"Why? What time is it? Did I sleep in?" He looked up to the chrono on the wall. "Oh no! No, no no!"

The prince jumped to his feet and almost lost his balance, still entangled in the blanket. He shrugged it off and grasped the mess of pillows and blankets in a messy bundle. He dashed for the bedroom. The little droid watched him dump the roll on the designated resting area that his young master never used. He then disappeared into the small fresher unit.

Emsee couldn't compute why the prince did not want to peruse the ergonomically suitable resting area to power down at night. Emsee had tried to convince him by calculating that his sleep would be on average thirty-four percent more restful, but his human still refused. The door to the fresher opened again and the prince hastened back. With a jump he landed on the couch, breathing fast.

"Okay, okay, I think we are good!"

But they weren't. Emsee's visual receptors spotted a pillow on the floor. It must have fallen from the prince's hastily assembled bundle. The little droid screeched. He extended his pincer and snatched the corner of the pillow to pull it into the bedroom.

The mechanic click of the locking mechanism of the main door drifted to them and his young master tensed. He quickly brushed a hand through his hair to flatten out some still messy strands.

Emsee calculated the time he would need to pull the pillow into the adjacent room. Too late. Instead he rolled in the opposite direction, pulling the pillow behind the couch and out of sight.

It was not a moment too soon.

There was a sharp knock on the door and it slid to the side. His young master ignored the two stormtroopers bringing his breakfast as he usually did. Even though they delivered his food, the prince was always very uncomfortable whenever they appeared. His heartbeat was faster than it should be. Emsee watched them attentively to make sure they wouldn't go too close to his master and upset him further.

The second the door had shut behind them again, the prince jumped to his feet. He bent down to pat the little droid. "Thanks, buddy, that was close."

Emsee whistled, pleased by the praise.

"Okay, so another boring day ahead of us. What are we going to do to pass the time?"

Emsee beeped and rolled toward the small conference room where the food tray was waiting for his master.

"I'm not exactly… Fine, breakfast it is." said Luke Organa.

His master sat down to eat. But all too soon he pushed away the tray and got up again. Emsee analysed the leftovers to monitor the prince's daily nutritional intake. His little data processing circuits spat out a warning. With the half-eaten breakfast the prince had only eaten an average of eighty-two percent of the necessary amount of food for a human his size and age over the past forty-eight standard hours. Three percent less than the acceptable degree of variation.

Emsee's programming left him no choice. He extended the small radio dish. Something that didn't go unnoticed by his young master.

"No, no, stop it. Don't you dare!"

The prince dived to catch him, but Emsee was prepared. He sped forward between the legs of the chairs as fast as his four wheels would carry him and into the living room. Behind him with an almighty crash, the prince collided with the table.

"It's not funny, stop it!" his young master shouted. "Look, I'm eating it, just a bit later."

The little droid retracted the small radio dish in time for the prince to emerge in the door.

"Thanks," Luke Organa said sourly.

Emsee made an apologetic noise.

The prince frowned. "You already contacted him, didn't you?"

Emsee launched into a flurry of excuses beeping wildly as he tried to convey everything from his programming forcing him to do so, to the faulty programming of his young master that led him to such behaviour in the first place, to the concern he felt that the prince's refusal to eat that worried him down to his circuits.

Despite the lack of a translation screen for the binary code, Luke understood him, as usual. "It's okay, buddy. You meant well." The prince flopped down next to him, crossing his legs. "What do you think, will he take less than an hour to show up?"

Emsee whistled.

"Yeah, you're right, last time he was here in much less time." Luke Organa patted Emsee affectionately. "You know what, I'll ask him if we can have some tools and I can try to upgrade your wheels, how would you like that?"

It took less than thirty minutes until the door to the quarters opened again and Lord Vader entered.

ooo


	2. Sabacc

Another short interlude. It has no influence on the main story.

Luke gets to meet General Veers and Captain Jhared Montferrat and learns to play Sabacc. The latter might be out of character, I am not sure, but I loved him as drawn by the most talented Laivaaia. The portrait the Emperor being a betting chip is an homage to Frodogenic and her awesome story Meet the Sleepwalkers! In case you read this, I hope you don't mind it!

ooo

Officially, Luke hadn't left his quarters in weeks. Of course, no-one but his father knew that Luke left the rooms assigned to him almost daily and for hours on end to train with Vader or sometimes just to stretch his legs. The admiral certainly had no inkling of Luke's frequent excursions. And he had therefore decided to arrange for Luke to get out and about for once. Luke was surprised that Vader had allowed it, but here he was, on his way to the Executor's senior officer's mess with the admiral.

Upon their arrival, the mess was almost empty. Their escort had remained outside for which Luke was grateful. Only a handful of other imperials occupied some of the tables surrounded by comfortable nerf leather seats. Without the usual entourage of troopers, Luke's and Piett's entrance didn't raise a single head.

Piett led him to a table further away from the rest. While the Admiral busied himself with organising a beverages, Luke took a moment to study the room.

The officer's mess had surprisingly high ceilings and the viewports lining the room on one side offered a stunning view on the main bulk of the vessel. Luke would have been impressed by the view, if he didn't enjoy a similar one form the viewport in his own room. The far side of the room was dominated by a bar, where the admiral was currently negotiating to obtain a drink similar to the Alderaanian tea that Luke had requested.

Above the bar an almost life-sized painting of the Emperor hung. Whoever had painted it had redefined the meaning of flattery to depict the despot with a benign smile and none of the deep scars that lined Palpatine's face. Luke wrinkled his lips in distaste.

Piett finally made his way back to him, balancing two cups of tea on a tray.

"I am not sure if this is close to what you wanted," he said.

"I am sure it is fine. I haven't had tea in a while," Luke said with a smile.

Piett placed the tray on the table and sat down. Not a moment later his comlink started to beep in a shrill manner. He pulled it out and eyed it.

"I… apologies, Highness, I'll have to-"

"Please, admiral. Do what you must."

Piett nodded and got back to his feet. "I'll be right back."

The admiral disappeared out the door. Luke continued his scan of the room. Two officers had gotten up from their table a good distance away and were making their way over to him.

One of them, a flint-eyed officer, flopped into the seat to Luke's left that the admiral had just vacated. He was younger than the admiral, almost as tall as Vader, and with broad shoulders. Luke eyed him with some apprehension. He was joined a moment later by the other who took the seat to Luke's right.

The other was sporting a large scar from his cheek over his eye and disappearing into his hairline. The eye covered by the scar was white and appeared blind. Luke wondered what might have caused such a kind of scar.

"So, you're the Prince of Alderaan," the first Imperial said, eying Luke without even trying to conceal his interest.

Luke returned the man's cool gaze.

"Since the Admiral is otherwise tied up, we'll keep you company. I'm General Maximilian Veers and the is Jhared Montferrat, Captain of the Devastator."

Luke inclined his head politely. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said, while he debated furiously with himself whether or not he should just get up and follow to wherever Piett had gone.

He probably wouldn't make it far though and his departure sorely mistaken as an escape attempt. It wasn't an option. Luke drew on the Force and probed the man sitting to his right lightly with the Force. What he found wasn't quite putting his mind at ease.

"You made sure the admiral would be called away in time," Luke stated.

"Perceptive," the general grinned. "It is something he has to reasonably see to himself. Might take him a while to sort out."

"You've gone to quite some length just to keep me company."

"Are you afraid," the scar-face captain bore down on him.

"No," Luke replied, despite his unease.

"And why is that?"

Luke attempted a pleasant smile. "As much as I would like to claim it is due to your hospitality, I clearly am still more useful alive and well than I am dead."

The general huffed.

The captain leaned in a bit further. "So, given your heritage I suppose you defend the same kind of idealist pacifism as the rest of your compatriots?"

"You could say that."

"So, you wouldn't condone enhanced interrogation methods, even when the information won can save lives? the scar-faced Captain Montferrat asked testily.

In other circumstances, before he had been taken from his home, Luke would have been more careful who he'd offered his sentiments to. Any criticism of the Empire's policies could get one in trouble. But considering his situation it hardly mattered if he'd hold back.

"No, I don't," he said firmly. "And I doubt that torture saved a single life."

"An unsurprising opinion."

"This isn't an opinion, Captain. There is evidence upon evidence provingthat torture yields little, if any pertinent results. It is much more unlikely that a suspect threatened with torture or subjected to it won't talk at all."

The captain raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile quirking his lips. "My experience is a different one. Anyone talks. It is just a matter of time."

"Oh, I am sure that your experience stems from many confessions, but you are likely only ever ended up with wrong information and false confessions. Even if victims of such methods want to tell the truth, they are unable to do so in any reliable way. If you follow up with the confessions obtained, then I am just as sure that you'd find cold trails, unverifiable facts and useless incriminations of innocent citizens."

Captain Montferrat seemed momentarily stumped and the general looked like he was fighting back a grin.

"I stick to it," the captain said eventually. "Torture is a useful instrument to deter citizen from joining insurgent groups. It helps to maintain order."

"If it is a deterrent, then it is at best a double edged one," Luke said.

"And how is that?"

"With torture as common practise it is much more unlikely for citizens to volunteer information as they fear that they might be subjected to torture themselves. Without the cooperation of witnesses that withhold their knowledge out of fear, lives are lost instead of saved."

A tense silence followed.

"See, I told you that kid's good," the general said, grinning broadly.

The scar-faced captain smirked too now. "He is," the captain acknowledged. "I suppose it is expected from the son of a politician to take after his father."

Luke winced. They'd probably feel differently about this if they'd know who his father really was.

"Anyway, let's have some fun," the general announced. With a booming voice that sure served him well to get his point across on any noise battlefield he called for some food to be served.

He turned back to Luke. "You've ever played Sabacc?" He reached into the pocket of his tunic, producing a neatly packed up deck of hexagonal cards.

Luke shook his head. "It's not quite a game I've been encouraged to learn."

"That's what I thought. Allow us to fill you in."

The general busied himself spreading the cards on the desk. "There are seventy-six cards. Four suits of each fifteen cards, flasks, sabers, staves and coins, each numbered. And then there are two sets of special cards. Here, for instance," he held up a card. "The Idiot. Has a value of zero, or this one," he held up another card. "The Evil One, value of minus fifteen."

The general grudgingly made a bit of space when a tray packed with dishes was delivered, then continued his lecture. Luke's head spun as he tried to absorb all the information.

ooo

Piett returned to the mess, in disbelieve that it had really taken him a full standard hour to sort out the mess on the bridge. What had started as an easy to solve problem had turned into a headache of planetary proportions. Piett was unsure how something as big as a gap of three hours between the second and third shift had remained unnoticed before, but now every essential station was finally manned again.

The door to the mess, still guarded by the prince's escort who assured him that there had been no disturbances, opened. And gave way on the table where he had left the prince to his own devices. But the prince wasn't alone anymore. Piett sharply pulled in air.

"General, Captain," he said, hoping his displeasure at the two men bothering the boy was sufficiently conveyed.

It didn't have the desired effect on either of them.

"Firmus," General Veers said, smiling amiably. "Nice of you to join. The captain and I took it upon ourselves to entertain your guest in your absence."

Piett eyed his young charge. The prince clutched a number of Sabacc cards in his hand. he looked indeed entertained, which managed to pacify Piett a bit. Piett tried to stop himself from contemplating how he would explain to the boy's father how his son had been introduced to such a lowlife game. Maybe it was for the best that he'd unlikely ever meet Senator Organa in person.

"Join us, Admiral," Captain Montferrat said smartly, gesturing to the last free seat. Piett glared but took the seat. There was no way he'd leave the prince out of his eyes again when the first unwatched moment the rest of the crew took it as an invitation to hassle the boy.

"I think I am getting the hang of this," Prince Luke said, placing down his hand, winning the round.

"You sure are," General Veers said. "So, it's time to bet. Sabacc isn't the same if you don't bet anything."

He dealt out the next round of cards.

"I'm afraid I don't have anything I could bet," the prince said.

"Not quite true," the general grinned. "How about that locket of yours."

The prince twitched. "How do you...?" he frowned, then his face lit up. "You recovered it!"

The general looked perplexed at the boy's quick perception. "I did."

"Then let me thank you for taking your time and effort to restore it to me."

"My pleasure, kid. So, what do you say?"

"As you can imagine it holds great personal value," the prince said. "If I am to bet it then what would you bet."

"Well, what do you want."

The prince scanned the room, and a mischievous smile crept on his face. "That," he said, pushing his thumb out to point at the large state portrait of Emperor Palpatine. He held up his locket and pressed the clasp let it pop open to show them the picture of himself and the Organas inside. "One picture of a ruler for another."

"Done," Veer said.

Luke reached for his neck and put the locket down on the table. Piett choked on his drink, catching on with the conversation.

"No. I don't allow-"

"Set is set, Firmus. Let's see what you got, kid."

ooo

Luke sat on his couch as a sharp knock on the door sounded. Two troopers struggled to push a huge painting through the door, wrapped in protective foil.

"Where do you want it, Sir?"

"Put it in the fresher," Luke said, waving his hand non-chalantly without looking up from his datapad.

With a curt "Yes, Sir," the troopers carrying the heavy, framed picture, disappeared in the direction of the fresher.

The noise of someone clearing his throat, finally caught Luke's attention.

"Admiral," Luke said, inclining his head, as he spotted Piett in the still open doorway.

"Your Highness," Piett replied. He looked unhappy. A loud clatter from the direction of the fresher unit caused the admiral's frowns to deepen. "Is that really necessary?"

"What do you mean?" Luke asked, his eyebrows raised.

"The portrait... I would appreciate if you could return it to its designated place."

"But it's mine now. I've won it fair and square."

"Maybe you could consider it a... donation? It would save me the explanation to procurement how the picture of his majesty was lost."

"I don't know, I like it here a bit more decorated," Luke said.

"Maybe I could organize another painting for you. I've checked the database and there might be a very nice painting currently on board the Tyrant made by a famous Alderaanian artist that you could hang instead?"

"But it would have the same sweet taste of winning at Sabacc to it," Luke interjected.

The admiral pursed his lips sourly. The troopers filed out and left. Luke got to his feet and marched to the fresher to examine the effect of the newly hung artwork on the room. He poked his nose in.

"Nine hells." Luke jumped back out into the bedroom and bumped soundly into the Admiral who had followed him.

The admiral took a look himself. "It's a little... overbearing," he said after a moments contemplation, the corners of his mouth twitching treacherously.

Recovered from his first shock, Luke dared to peek over the admiral's shoulders. The painting was so large that it appeared to an unsuspecting person walking into the small room as if the Emperor in person was standing next to the fresher unit. Luke shuddered.

"That's one way of putting it," he said. " I might be inclined to return it. Unless of course you could organize me some darts..."

"And what would you need darts for?" Piett asked, failing spectacularly at a neutral face.

"Um… for completely unrelated purposes," Luke grinned.

"Nice try."

"Well, in that case, you can have it back. Far be it for me to spoil the cosy atmosphere of the mess that would be incomplete without the charm of this portrait."

Piett seemed to breathe a little easier. "It may be a bit too much asked, but would you also be willing to return Captain Montferrat's code cylinder?"

ooo

This story is meant light-hearted and yet I would like to raise awareness to a topic that is often misrepresented in fiction. I can most warmly recommend scripttorture on tumblr, who is tirelessly helping writers depict torture accurately including the fact that torture does not work in term of providing accurate, reliable and fast information. Check out their blog if you want to learn more.


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